


Confessional

by FireflySong



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Sort Of, but if you think that miroku doesnt take this chance to gush about how amazing sango is, just wanted to play on mushin's relationship to miroku, miroku and sango dont actually talk to each other, takes place at the end of ep 134, then you are very wrong, uses english anime dub terms and names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-07 12:27:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17365826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflySong/pseuds/FireflySong
Summary: Just because Mushin likes to drink doesn't mean he's not invested in what Miroku's doing with his life, or who he intends to spend it with. So when Miroku tells him that he intends to marry Sango, he listens.





	1. Miroku's Confession

**Author's Note:**

> First Inuyasha fic I've ever written but I've been a fan of the series since I was like 13. Written because I finally finished the anime just receantly and I just have so many ideas to get out, and with the new year decided to actually try writing some of them. Just a warning, but I do use the names and terms from the English Dub of the anime. It's the version I've known best for the last 15 years and the only version I had known until I read the manga a few years ago. So while I do know the original Japanese terms, they've just always felt weird.

From the covered stairs in front of the old Buddhist temple, the old monk Mushin sat in silence with Miroku. In his hands, he held a small cup that he kept filled with sake from a pitcher by his side. Mushin liked to believe that after all these years of practice that he could hold his liquor well, but this stuff, this Mist of Sages, had hit him like a club from the very first sip. While he could tell that he was no doubt going to wake up with a raging hangover the next morning, it was going to be very worth it.

He had felt a little guilty sending Miroku and the others up the Kasumidake for it; while no one had said that anything strange had happened up there, the lack of words clearly meant that something had. But with every additional sip he took, Mushin could feel any guilt and regrets he had about sending them there,or about making them clean the entire temple and buy him an expensive meal, quickly evaporate away. Anything this good was made to be drank with no regrets. 

By all accounts and purposes, some (very, very good) alcohol coupled with the clear and peaceful night air, and spending some quality with the man he had raised since childhood, should have been the perfect combination to make the best of what could very well be his last night alive. And yet, Miroku had been restless the past view minutes, darting his eyes between Mushin and the area of the temple where his friends slept, constantly opening and closing his mouth but never saying anything. Mushin would have felt insulted, but he could tell that it wasn’t that Miroku would have preferred to spend the evening with his friends than an old, drunk monk, but rather that he had something he wanted to tell him, he just wasn’t sure how.

“What’s on your mind Miroku?”

Miroku turned to face Mushin in confusion, but quickly gave a small smile and sigh. “Sorry Master, I suppose it was quite obvious wasn’t it.”

Mushin took another small sip of the sake. “I haven’t seen you this restless and unsure since that priestess came to visit the temple when you were only thirteen. So I assume that whatever you want to speak to me about involves a woman in some way. 

He watched as Miroku once again looked towards the sleeping area of the temple before taking a steadying breath. “I asked Sango to marry me.” 

Well, that had been unexpected. Mushin finished the remainder of the alcohol in the cup and grabbed the small pitcher to pour some more out. “So that’s what happened on the mountain I assume? And since none of you have said a word about it I suppose she shot you down?” 

Miroku’s face twisted into one remembering unpleasant memories as he seemed to recall what actually took place. “No, and I would rather not speak about what took place there if it’s all the same to you.”

Mushin simply shrugged as he took another sip and sorted through his drunken stupor for who this ‘Sango’ was. Miroku had seemed to think he would know who this women was so it was clearly someone he had met and was somewhat familiar with, which narrowed it down to the two girls that travelled with Miroku. He recalled one of the women, a demon slayer if he was correct, never far from the younger monk when they were in the same room, and her barely suppressed fury at the dinner the other night. If she had been furious because of the inn girls clamoring over Miroku then her actions suddenly made that much more sense.

“The demon slayer? I’m surprised that you managed to get her to agree to have your child Miroku. Though I suppose it does makes sense. A child with your spiritual powers and her demon slaying training would certainly be up to the task of killing Naraku.” 

“No, you misunderstand Master Mushin. I asked her come live with me after we kill Naraku and to bear any children then. I couldn’t bear the idea of her watching me getting sucked up into my own Wind Tunnel and then watching our child get sucked up as well years later. No parent should have to watch their child die before them, especially in a way as horrible as this.” 

Mushin looked up at the large, round fissure in the ground that served not only as the grave of Miroku’s father, but Mushin’s best friend. He could understand the sentiment clearly. It was a horrid way to die, leaving no closure for their loved ones, and nightmares for those who witnessed it as well. Not a single trace of the person was left behind, it left no body to bury or any items to make a shrine to honor them in death. It was an indiscriminate death as well, sucking up anyone and anything in the vicinity before finally leaving it’s curse on the next in line and starting the vicious cycle all over again.

“Besides, I refuse to do what Father did and simply have a child with Sango just because they would have a better chance of defeating Naraku if I fail.”

Mushin sighed at this and took another sip of the Mist of Sages. It seemed that for all Miroku loved and respected his father, he still hadn’t forgiven him for that.

“I must say, I am surprised. You seemed to have no qualms about asking every girl out there to bear you a child until now. What changed?”

Miroku’s gaze was hard. “You know I had been searching for any hint or trace of Naraku ever since Father died, but it seemed I was no closer to finding him then Father had been. I had started to think that the only way to remove the curse was to follow in his footsteps and make an heir. And then, with no warning, the Jewel of Four Souls had not only returned, but been shattered, and shards of them were turning up all over the area. I had intended to collect as many pieces as possible and use them to heighten my own power and draw Naraku out, but I met Kagome, Inuyasha, and Shippo instead.

“It was only supposed to be a temporary partnership, but then Naraku started to appear everywhere. It was like he was following them and I realized that if I stayed then I would finally get a chance to defeat Naraku and the curse would be broken and end with me. I couldn’t afford to pass an opportunity like this up.” 

Mushin nodded along, but wasn’t sure if it was because the sake had started to make him dizzy and tired, or if it was what seemed like the right thing to do. He deemed it was probably some combination of the two.

“And where does the demon slayer come into this?”

Mushin didn’t think it was possible, but Miroku’s eyes hardened even further and he clenched his right hand into a fist. “Sango joined us not long before I asked you to repair my Wind Tunnel. Naraku had killed everyone from her village just because she had found a shard of the Shikon Jewel and they were keeping it safe. Not only that, but he had left the village defenseless by taking away their most powerful slayers on a mission to his castle, and used that opportunity to take control of her younger brothers body and kill everyone with them, including her. She told us that she had actually clawed her way out of her own grave and Naraku took that chance to tell her that not only had her entire village been slaughtered but that we had done it. When we finally met her she had come to kill us and was covered in her own blood and barely standing, even under the power of a jewel shard in her back. By the time we had managed to convince her that Naraku was lying, she was so close to death it was a miracle she was able to speak, muchless move. Naraku had taken everything away from her Master. Her home, her family, her friends, her community, __everything.__ ”

Miroku smiled softly and Mushin was surprised at the amount of fondness and love in it. “You should see her fight though Master Mushin. When Inuyasha wields the Testusaiga he’s the strongest fighter of any of us, but Sango is far and away the most skilled. She doesn’t even have any spiritual or demonic powers like the rest of us but can fight leagues better than anyone else I’ve ever met. She spent years training and perfecting her fighting style and it shows. She has back-up weapons for her back-up weapons! Even when injured and on death’s door, she was able to go toe to toe with Inuyasha. I truly, honestly believe that if Sango and Inuyasha ever had to fight each other seriously, she would win. She knows so many tips and tricks for overcoming his attacks and weakening his demonic senses that there would be nothing he could do. She is truly a sight to behold.

“And she loves so much it’s unbelievable. When she learned that Naraku had brought her younger brother back to life to use against her, all she could think of was freeing Kohaku and getting him back to her. She wears her heart on her sleeve and can become angry at the drop of a hat but it’s just proof of how passionate she is at what she does and knows what she wants in life, and she’s not afraid to take on anything or anyone in her way to get it. She acts so quiet an unassuming when not fighting, but in battle I can’t think of anyone I trust more to have my back.

“I’ve never met such a strong women in my life, and I want her in it for as long as I’m still alive.”

Mushin just listened to all of this, slowly sipping the sake as he realized for the first time just how far Miroku had fallen for this demon slayer, how much he loved her. That his proposal hadn’t just been the words of a man who didn’t have long to live, but the words of one who intended to live, and spend the rest of it with her. It shocked him, that Miroku had finally found and been able to grasp what his father had wanted but had never been able to have.

With this thought in mind, he finished off what little alcohol was remaining in the cup, and watched Miroku grab the pitcher and poured some more into Mushin’s cup himself.

“There you go. So tell me, how does it taste?”

Mushin smiled. “Superb.”


	2. Sango's Advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, the most drunk I've ever gotten was tipsy so I clearly have no idea what a hangover's like. Also, the name I chose for Moriku's father means that Miyatsu was a horrible person with a terrible sense of humor, and I'm okay with that.

The next morning, Mushin was proven right in his assumption of an awful hangover, but the Mist of Sages had been phenomenal and he considered it a price well-paid. Even if it did feel like his head was about to spilt open. It was a shame though that he had accidentally spilled the remainder of the sake in the pitcher when he slept. Still, he thought the yelling from everyone else that morning when they realized he wasn’t actually dying from some ailment or another had been completely uncalled for and had just made his headache worse. In fact, his head was the entire reason he was even digging around the store house for more sake in the first place. From his experience, Mushin found that drinking more alcohol took the edge off and numbed the effects of his over-drinking better than anything else. Any alcohol he found would pale in comparison to the Mist of Sages of course, but he couldn’t have everything.

Everything, in this instance, also seemed to include more sake, he had been through the entire storehouse at least three times now and all he discovered was a small mouse nest in the corner he was going to have to clean out, and the fact that he was apparently going to have to order more ink and paper. Mushin sighed mournfully, he was going to have to put an order in for more sake, and other supplies too of course, the next time the young boy from the nearby village came to help clean the temple. And judging from the extreme deep-clean that Miroku and his friends had done just the other day, that wasn’t going to happen for a few days yet, at the very least. Although, now that he thought about it, Hachi had been hanging around a lot lately, maybe he could finally put that lazy racoon-dog to use and get him to drop off an order.

With a plan set that would replenish diminishing supplies, and get him more sake of course, sooner rather than later, he stood up to find Hachi. Only to crack his head on a low shelf he had forgotten about and stand cradling his bald head as the world went white around him.

“Are you alright Monk Mushin?”

Mushin turned at the voice to make out the vague shape of a female standing at the entrance to the room. He strained to make out more characteristics around the sharp pain in his head, and started to make out out what looked like a standard kimono. The demon slayer then, the other girl’s kimono was much, much shorter in length.

“Just hit my head.” He waved off her concerns when she stepped further into the room to check on him. “I’ll be fine in a moment.” Now that she was out of the the light of the open doorway and into the darker storeroom though, he was able to make out more details. She had apparently left the large boomerang she always carried behind, though she still wore the black and coral pieces of armor beneath her simple kimono. He wasn’t sure what she was doing in this part of the temple in the first place, he figured that everyone would still be packing up to leave.

“Are you sure? I heard some movement and when I came to investigate all I saw was you holding your head in pain. I can go and get Kagome or Miroku if you’d like?”

“It’s fine I promise, the pain’s already started to fade.” It wasn’t a lie. The sharp pain was slowly fading to a dull, constant thrum. “Don’t you still have to pack anyway.”

She shook her head, but was still staring at him worriedly. “I finished a while ago. I’ve been trained as a demon slayer after all, I’m used to traveling on the road and packing up quickly when needed. I don’t carry a whole lot as it is. Kagome’s the one everyone’s waiting on, she always has so much crammed into her bag that she’s constantly reorganizing before we leave anywhere. Shippo and Inuyasha are helping her pack,” she paused, and then rolled her eyes before continuing, “or least Shippo’s helping. Inuyasha’s probably just grumbling about how long it always takes her and how everything would just be so much easier and quicker if she left all her school stuff behind and brought only the ‘necessities’.”

Mushin had been about what to ask just what the half demon considered to be necessities when he heard, rather then felt, a dull thud from behind the woman in the direction of the sleeping quarters.

The demon slayer just gave a long-suffering sigh. “Right on time. He never learns.”

Mushin gave a low laugh, though it hurt his head a bit. It seemed that Miroku wasn’t traveling with a boring group at least. Speaking of which…

“And what of Miroku?”

A shrug. “He said that he wanted to visit his father’s grave before we left.”

He looked at the demon slayer curiously. “And you didn’t go with him?”

“No, why would I? He didn’t ask me to come,” she responded confused.

“Oh, I just assumed that with you two promising to get married and bear his children that you would have joined him.”

Mushin just watched as the demon slayer, who had been fairly stoic and professional up to this point, just turn red in embarressment and begin stammering nervously. “Ah, um, w-what? I-I-I just… We…” She sighed in reluctant acceptance, “Who told you? It was Kagome wasn’t it. She promised not to tell anyone!”

“Well, no. Miroku told me of course. He told me last night after you all got back from the Kasumidake.”

“Oh. That, that makes sense.”

Mushin was shocked to see that the demon slayer looked almost confused at the answer. “Was he not supposed to tell anyone?”

“It’s not that. It’s just that, well, I’m suprised he even told you. We decided that we wanted to keep it between us in case something happened. If Kagome and the others hadn’t been spying on us at the time, I’m not sure that we would have even told them. And well,” Sango looked sadly down at her hands that had begun to wring together and spoke quietly, “I wasn’t sure how serious he still was about it.”

Well, this certainly wasn’t looking good for their future prospects. Mushin sighed as he walked passed her to the outside and groaned at the mid-morning sunlight that hit his eyes. It hurt. It seemed that cracking his head only moments before had not helped his hang-over in the slightest. In fact, it made it considerably worse.

But it was up to him to fix Miroku’s mistakes, and he was sure that any mistakes to be had here were Miroku’s. He could go and hide in a dark room and sulk from the pain and lack of sake after.

“I’ve been meaning to leave an offering to Miroku’s father as well, would you care to join me on the walk there? I would appreciate the company.” He didn’t look back to see if the demon slayer was following, but trusted that the sound of her footsteps behind him meant she was.

The two of them walked in silence for a bit, passing the sleeping quarters where he winced at the sounds of crashing and yelling from Miroku’s remaining friends. He waved off the incoming apology he could sense was coming. It seemed that maybe young Taro was going to have to come for a visit earlier than he anticipated. They only stopped for a bit to let Mushin pick a couple of the flowers that grew not far from the steps of the temple. Mihiro had always like the flower’s simple beauty, he had liked to say that it was easy to see the influence of Buddha in something as simple and lovely as a flower.

“So tell me, what has Miroku done to convince you that he isn’t serious about you?”

If she thought anything about his topic of sudden conversation, other then stopping to let him catch up, she never showed it. Her voice was still soft when she spoke though. “He never brought it up after that. He continued to act the the same with me the next day, nothing but lecherous thoughts and hands.” Her face hardened with annoyance, and her voice with it, “And he still continued to flirt with any pretty face that came his way.”

Mushin sighed, Miroku was a smart man, he knew this for a fact, but he could also be so incredibly stupid. “He was quite serious, you can believe me that much. When he told me last night, every single word he spoke about you was glowing praise and I think he might be easily convinced that you hung the moon and stars yourself. You can trust me when I say that he very much wants to marry you.”

The demon slayers face went red again, but she seemed happy. At least, until she spoke again, “Well, he certainly doesn’t act like it.”

“You might have to give him some patience on that end. Unlike the rest of you he’s always known and accepted the fact that the chance he would live to middle age was extremely low. I think he flirts as a way to forget that and to experience as much of life as he could before it was too late.” Mushin glanced at Sango and gave a conspiratorial smile, “And between you and me, I think he actually is trying, even if it’s hard to tell.”

She scoffed. “He didn’t seem to very trying very hard at that inn the other night if you ask me. He could have easily told those women to stop, but seemed to be enjoying their ‘VIP treatment’ to much to me.”

“I’m not going to argue with you there,” Mushin agreed, “but, he had seemed oddly subdued to me that night. I had expected him to ask all of them to bear his child, or if they had any ‘private issues’ that might require a monk’s help, and yet, he hadn’t. I had assumed that he hadn’t done so because he thought I was dying at the time, but know I believe he didn’t for you. He could have certainly shown that in a much better light, but, as I’m sure your aware, I and his father were the only role models he ever had.”

“What about his mother?”

Mushin stopped walking to contemplate the question. The two of them weren’t far from Mihiro’s grave now, the large bowl shaped scar in the ground was clearly visible in front of them, although neither Miroku nor the grave itself was visible yet. He wasn’t surprised that Miroku had never brought up his mother,it had always been a volatile subject for him. Still, the less he knew that Mushin was speaking of it, the easier it would be on his aching head.

“He never knew his mother.”

The demon slayer; Sango, he had to constantly remind himself, grew quiet, “I see. I’m sorry. Did she die when he was still a baby?”

Mushin shook his head. “No, and she might might very well be alive for all I know.”

“I don’t understand, but you said that he never knew her…”

“He didn’t,” Mushin interrupted, “Miroku’s father came to me almost twenty years ago with a baby. He told me that it was his son, and that the mother was no longer in the picture. She had given birth to their son and wanted nothing to do with either of them.”

Mushin didn’t have to looked at the wom-, Sango, to know what her expression was. It probably looked the same as his did at the time: a combination of shock, outrage, confusion, and a deep sadness. “You have to understand how she must of felt, giving birth to a boy that she would be forced to raise alone when his father died. And when that happened, her son would get the same curse in his right hand that would be destined to kill him one day. It’s a tough burden to bear.

“And from what Mihiro told me, Miroku’s mother had been a high ranking and powerful priestess. If word had ever gotten out that she had had a child with such a weak monk, it would have destroyed her life.”

She was still silent, so Mushin continued. “You need to understand one thing about Miroku, the reason he can fight and use spiritual power at all is because of who is mother is, not his father. I assume he told you how his family was cursed with the Wind Tunnel in the first place?” She nodded. “Miroku’s grandfather, Monk Miyatsu, had had immense spiritual power, but had been unfortunately unable to pass them down to his own son, Mihiro. Mihiro had enough spiritual power to preform small exorcisms, but that was it, it paled in comparison to the abilities of his own father.

“So when we watched Monk Miyatsu die, and Mihiro cursed with the Wind Tunnel in turn, he knew that there was no way he was ever going to kill Naraku and be the one to end the curse. So he decided to put the other skill his father had given to him, one I’m sure your very familiar with, and went to find a women to bear him a son that would be stronger than he ever was.

“And he was right. Miroku was born, and while he wasn’t as skilled as his own grandfather, he was still leagues ahead of his own father.”

“Does Miroku know who his mother is?”

Mushin sighed sadly. “No. The only person who knew was his father and that knowledge died with him ten years ago.” He turned to look at the demon slayer, who looked unsure and hesitant, and was quick to clarify, “This doesn’t mean of course that Miroku asked you to marry him just so he can have a child more powerful then him though.”

To his surprise, he watched her smile as though she had realized the importance of a secret that had been told to her long ago. She looked sad, but hopeful. “He had told me once that he didn’t feel that he would be able to love me as an ordinary woman. I think I know what he meant now.”

Before Mushin could speak, or suggest that they continue their walk, she spoke again, her voice unsure, “Did Miroku ever tell you how I met everyone?”

Mushin nodded slowly. “A little. He mentioned that Naraku had killed your family and your entire village.”

“I’m sure he told you that I tried to kill all of them, Naraku told me that they were the one’s that killed everyone after all. Despite that, they decided to save my life and help me recover even though it would just have been easier to leave me for dead. But when I recovered enough to move, I not only discovered that they had brought me back to my village, but they had buried everyone and left offerings of flowers and incense.

“They had done this before they even met me, they had come to my village for information on the Shikon Jewel and instead found it filled with dead villagers and demons. The easiest option would have been just to leave the area as they found it, or even just set fire to it and burn everything to the ground. And yet, they didn’t hesitate to separate the bodies and purify the demons to get rid of any residual demonic energies. The even gave each person a proper burial and their own grave, marking each one with the weapons they had found the bodies holding.

“And while I recovered from my injuries, Miroku and Inuyasha continued to tidy up the village as much as possible, trying to salvage what little they could for me. When I went to thank Kagome for doing this, she told me that the reason any of this was happening was because of Miroku. The moment they came across the carnage and Myoga appeared, Miroku left to find a usable shovel. She hadn’t event thought of doing something like this until he had begun to dig the first grave, and after they returned with me, started making piles of wood and debris to burn.

“Weeks afterword, I would keep thinking back to that. The idea that no matter how lecherous Miroku acted or how much he lied, anyone who’s first thought at coming upon a sight of mass murder like that was to bury and give honors to the dead couldn’t be as bad as he was acting.

“He would prove it again much later when we finally discovered the spot that Naraku’s castle had been. I had found the makeshift grave where the people of the castle had buried my Father and comrades, and before anyone could do or say anything, Miroku had begun to dig out the bones and pieces or armor to move them to a less defiled ground. He promised me that it would only be temporary, so he buried them under a large boulder in the area so we could find it again. Even a temporary burial like this he gave full honors and rights, and the instant we had time told Inuyasha that we were going back for my Father’s bones and bringing them back to my village, back home, where they belonged.

“And when he’s not trying to flirt or grab at anyone, he will just sit and listen to you. Until him, I had never met anyone who was as willing to listen as Miroku was, and would only offer advice if you asked for it or allowed him to give it. But sometimes, when he thinks that no one’s watching or no one’s awake, I’ll just see him stare at his right hand, just resigned to the fact that he’s going to die in a few years.

“And it always hurts so much, that such a good and kind-hearted person like him had just accepted the fact that he was going to die. So when he asked me that day to live with him, I was just so happy. Not only for the fact that I think that may have been the first time he made plans for still being alive after Naraku died, but that he wanted __me__  in them.”

Mushin was silent the whole time she poured her heart out to him. And continued to stay silent as he walked with her up to the crater that served as the memorial of Miroku’s father. He watched as at the base, Miroku was kneeling in prayer before the simple gravestone, two sticks of incense burning steadily as offering in the warm mid-morning air. He looked at Sango out of the corner of his eye. She was also watching Miroku, but the look of love in her eyes and the sad smile on her face was enough to convince him of what he had to do next.

“Sango,” he could tell she had turned surprised in his direction, it was the first time he had ever used her name since he met her, “can you do an old man one last request?”

She was looking curiously, if not a little warily, at him now. “Can you keep him safe for me? I’ve lived through three generations of the Wind Tunnel and I’ve watched two of them die to the curse of their own hand. I was barely a man when I watched Monk Miyatsu vanish in front of my eyes, and it’s been a little over ten years sinced I watched Mihiro go the same way right here. I’ve helped raise that boy since he was an infant and I don’t think I could bear knowing it happened a third time. I want him to outlive me, and die after living a long and happy life.”

Sango nodded resolutely. “I promise.” She was clearly determined to keep her word, if not for him, then for herself.

“Thank you.” Mushin looked at the flowers he had picked along their walk from the temple. It truly was a simple flower, with eight, thin, pink petals and a vibrant yellow center. Dew still clung to the small, delicate petals despite the walk over. He handed them out to Sango. “It would make a nice offering to Miroku’s father from you I think. And I think that not only would Miroku appreciate having you there, but Mihiro would like to meet you as well.”

Sango looked at the flowers, cheeks pink but with a small smile on her face. Without a word, she carefully took the flowers from her hand and walked down the sloped edge of the crater. Mushin watched as Miroku turned to her, and even at this distance could see that while his smile was small, his eyes were bright at the sight of her and he accepted the flowers from her with a nod of thanks.

Feeling like this was a private moment, and somehow that they got very few of those considering the people they traveled with, he walked back to the temple alone. While his headache had receded somewhat, the temptation of a dark and quiet room was too much to resist.

On the way there he thought about what Miroku and Sango had told him. And for the first time realized that although Miroku had confessed to him that he loved Sango, Mushin couldn’t begin to comprehend how much he actually felt about her, and how much she felt for him in return. It was jarring, that this boy he had helped raise, was head-over-heels and was willing to sacrifice anything if it meant keeping her alive and living with her.

He just hoped that everything wasn’t Miroku himself.     


End file.
